It was refreshing and fun, but I am seriously ready to get back to real life. And that's a great feeling.

I had a design project that was about two days off of delivery when we left town. Evan's chickenpox slowed me down just enough that I had to wait till we were back to get that wrapped up. I finished the work last week, unpacked, ran around getting kids set up for the new school year, took a few deep breaths—including a hike to our favorite waterfall last Friday with friends—and now I'm back in the ring.

I've decided to have at least two Wonder Woman Days each week where I tear through my to-dos like I'm battling a horde of supervillians. I'm still debating whether this calls for a token tiara and gratuitous gauntlets to enhance my resolve or whether my invisible airplane is enough.

Yesterday was such a day. By the end of the day, my 'completed' list was five times taller than usual. Yikes. I really earned my stripes when I gathered up suit and tie for Elijah's senior yearbook photoshoot, picked him up early from his graphic-design course, shuttled him on time to his appointment across town, dressed and ready to go... and one last look-over revealed that the child had not shaved. We're talking 1/4" of growth or more—allbeit sparse—peppered all over his face. Not good.

Now, I don't shave my face. And he hardly ever does. Neither of us remembered this little detail. I was quite tempted to throw a nice little tantrum in the waiting room. This wooly diversion could set us back by hours while we waited for another opening or rescheduled for August.

I closed my eyes, took several deep breaths and it dawned on me that this was one of those bad-in-an-extra-funny-way moments I would look back on fondly one day. I gritted my teeth, then gathered my golden lasso and my shaggy son and we headed to the grocery store for supplies. He put his tee shirt back on, shaved in the restroom, re-dressed in his fancies and headed back to the photo studio to wait.

The shoot was much more involved than I expected, including shots of him in a cap and gown. Be still, my mama heart. I'm so glad he was clean-shaven. If I hadn't decided earlier to be Wonder Woman, I don't think we would have dodged that speeding bullet very well. I have so much to catch up on. Rescheduling would have been a defeat.

I was even nice about it. How about that? And I fed the hungry boy a giant's serving of Backyard Tacos to celebrate our victory.

I love that kid.

Today? Today is not a Wonder-Woman Day. It's a secret-identity day and I'm proceeding at normal speed — rebooting for another blam!-kerpow! day tomorrow.

You know you want it...and you can have it too. Remember to vote EVERY DAY in the Bernina USA Faceplate Face-Off to increase your chance of winning this luxury machine. Voting ends 4-14-14, so set a reminder.

Also, if you are in Arizona this weekend, please consider joining me at the Run for Travis fundraiser in Gilbert. Travis Williams, the father of one of Charlotte's very best friends, passed away this week from a battle with cancer. Travis leaves behind a wife and four young children. He was only age 40. Proceeds go toward helping the family with medical expenses. There will be a 5k walk/run, a silent auction, food trucks. I'm excited to go help in this way.

Becky Higgins, who I worked with on a Heather Bailey Project Life kit last year, is good friends with the Williams family. She wrote a beautiful post about their longstanding relationship earlier this month, if you'd like to take a look.

While I've had some exposure in my life to the inadequacies of the english language, it is confirmed for me this week that words can never match the depth of feeling our souls experience in times of great joy and great sorrow. The phrases, "words can't describe" or "there aren't words” can be seen as lack of trying. That is, until you have been there, reaching for words that don’t exist.

Great blessings and great trials stir up the recesses of our souls, making us experience something new, something quite inexpressible: the singular moment when you know what you must do next, after weeks of confusion and indecision; the sparkle of love and utter trust in your child’s eyes while you tickle him into the hiccups; the awe and reverence I myself have felt this week witnessing my friends, Jori and Dwight Udall, maneuver through the darkest nightmare with light and love, taking every opportunity to testify that they know they will be with their son again, and that he is now whole and well, calming and reassuring family, friends, and the community at large. What strength of spirit this generosity requires, I can only imagine. Heaven knows, I would be tucked away in a private corner, crumpled in on myself.

My dear, dear friend's 11-year-old son unexpectedly passed away this weekend in a tragic accident. It has been a tender and uplifting experience for our family and our church. I am honored to witness such strength of faith up close. Jori and Dwight have endured more than anyone I've ever met. And must endure this as well. They are my heroes.

Jori asked Isaac to create a website where CJ can be honored and where more info is posted. His family would like to celebrate his life by championing meaningful projects to benefit CJ's favorite things, including Boy Scouts, the Special Olympics and more. If you would like to know more about this special boy and help his family channel their tremendous grief in this positive direction with a donation to CJ's fund, please visit www.CJUdall.org. There was a press conference this afternoon, so more info will likely be on the AZ evening news tonight as well. Please spread the word. We can pull together and make a difference.

My giveaway plans were derailed today by a very important little person and his very own 2nd birthday. Little Evan
is two years old today! When I giddily plucked him from his crib this
morning, we snuggled up on Charlotte's bed while I sang him a Happy
Birthday song. At the end of every phrase, Evan chimed in with "cake!"

It took us till eveningtime to finally make good on the promise of
cake with a small family birthday party. Boisterous cousins followed
Evan about, patting his head and picking him up in turn. By the time
cake was served, Evan couldn't care less about the stir of children
throughout our home. Cake, at last—what a birthday is all about.

I wanted to write Evan a little love note today to enumerate his
sweet particularities at this age, count the many ways in which I love
him. But, Sundays are my busiest days—even without a birthday to
celebrate. As such, the love note didn't happen. And today's giveaway
post didn't happen either. When it came down to it, I had to choose
between photographing and writing a giveaway post and giving my little
son his birthday dues—time, attention and cake. I chose the baby.

I could prep and post today's giveaway
now, but it's getting too late in the night to do our awesome Day 25
prize justice. Instead, I'm going to go for a double header tomorrow and
put up two separate giveaways in two separate posts. Hang tight and
watch for those tomorrow. I'll make sure the deadlines are generous so
you won't miss your chance.

Happy, Happy Birthday to my darling boy. From our early morning
cake-song to my late-night blog update, today, I'm reminded of this
lovely poem by Ruth Hulbert Hamilton—though it could use a new stanza about the internet, the computer and the smart phone:

Song for a Fifth Child

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

My day has gone to school meetings. Elijah switched high schools this
year and we're working to get him established at a school one mile from
our home. We were driving him 25 minutes away each day, back and forth
for the last two years, often several times a day and this really put a
pinch on our time at home as a family.

This year, Elijah volunteered to change schools. He and his dad both
seem okay with it. I'm still resolving my own feelings. He not only has
no friends there yet, but the school is in a different school district
and runs quite differently from what he is used to. And he had to leave
behind one of the state's top marching band programs (the reason he had
insisted on that school in the first place).

I
hate that he's switching halfway through high school. Ug. I wish I
would have pushed more strongly for this close-by school two years ago.
I'm working to feel at peace with the mid-stream change. Today's
meetings helped with that quite a bit. We brought in a list of things we
felt would help Elijah transition well and the response was, "This is
what we, here, call good teaching. This will be no problem at all." Just
what we needed to hear! I liked his last school a lot, but the
administration at the new school made a great first impression today.
I'm one step closer to parental peace.

Additionally, with the high school only one mile away now, I can get
more involved and still keep my other two children on track. I'm
hopeful, but I'm still holding my breath nonetheless.

Needless
to say, my giveaway to-do list hasn't shed any pounds today while I've
been out parenting. It's approaching evening time and I still have this
giveaway to post and a number of winners to select. So, on with the
show!

For more information on my piggie doll pattern (my personal favorite of the patterns we've published), click here. For my first preview of the Daily Spice apron pattern, head back seven years to this post. (It sounds like driving Elijah around was a part-time job even back then. Boy, how long have I been blogging now?) As for Full Bloom Roses, we may have only announced that pattern by newsletter originally, so get the details here.

Comment to enter today's contest. Be sure to include your email
address
so we can contact you if you win. You don't have to type your email
address into the body of the comment if you entered it in the email-address
field on the comment form. One entry per household.

Today's giveaway will close at noon PST on Wednesday 8/21/13. Watch for the winner to
be announced within the week at the bottom
of the post. For more info on my big ol' August giveaway party, click here. Please
share the word. Check back every day.

I featured The Vintage Pearl once before when Erin sent me a mommy necklace with Charlotte and Elijah charms. It is my daily, go-to necklace and I absolutely love it. Of course, since then, I had another child. I needed to add his name onto my mama necklace.

But what was I going to name him?

Okay, okay. I know! My baby will be two-years old this month
and I have never announced his name on my blog. It turns out I could
only call him "my little bub" or "the baby" or "my youngest" so many
times without getting caught. And you guys have noticed. Boy, have you
noticed. You are totally onto me. I'm sorry for leaving you out in the
dark on that. I'm going to attempt to explain myself today. I know there
are a number of you who have faithfully watched for this news!

Choose Your Own Adventure

If you want the juicy details of my rampant indecision and how the
babysitter named our son, read on. For the punchline and a fabulous
giveaway, skip to The Punchline at the bottom. (Know that through all of
this, on top of having a new baby to care for, I was still healing from that Trash Ties situation and I was under the pressure of an enormous number of design deadlines.)

The Details

For starters, we listed baby names over and over all through my
pregnancy and never found a clear winner before the birth. I'm sure this
is common enough. We wanted a name that was interesting and unique but
not contrived or trendy. Once a name gets trendy, I can't do it.

I have always loved my grandfather's name: Imri Joseph (rhymes with "Jim Rye"). I never knew
him. I have a solitary memory of him giving me a piece of gum. But,
family heritage is very important to me. I never had extended family as
a kid and I want my children to have that in their lives. Imri was a
responsible, interesting and intelligent man. He was the Head Food
Chemist at Heinz for decades and was pivotal in developing the
technology that gives Heinz ketchup its signature flavor—making it
still the best ketchup there is. When he died—I was four—he
willed me a small amount of Heinz stock that grew a little as I grew and
helped me pay for college. He was a family man and a hobby
photographer—long before most families owned a camera. I don't know,
I've always just felt close to
him even though I don't know him.

I
wanted to name the baby Imri. I really wanted to, but it made me
anxious. It's such an uncommon name that we really had no gauge on how
that name would function for him in his life. How would people pronounce
it? How much explaining would he need to do every time he gave his
name? How would it look on a resume?

I
didn't feel particularly passionate about any of the other names that
remained on our short list. It was either go hog-wild and name him
something creatively strong like Imri (I liked Wilder too)—and let him
figure out how to wield such a name, or keep to the classics and name
him Henry, James, Evan or Graham. Isaac and I are artists. A larger part
of us wanted to indulge in a creative name, but part of us didn't want
to presume this would work for our little baby's destined personality.

Of those classic names, Henry was my favorite. But the guidance
counselor from my high school's name was Henry Bailey and I knew my
siblings and mom would have a hard time with that. (My mom worked at our
high school.) If I had given Elijah the name Henry back in 1997, it
would have been more comfortably unsusual for me. In the meanwhile,
Henry has become quite popular. So that was two gentle dings against
Henry.

So what other classic names could we add to the list? Not many. You see, Isaac is one of ten children. His siblings mostly
have boys and they have employed many of the strong, classic boy names that I like: Thomas, William, Luke, etc. But—Isaac
wouldn't allow us to consider any names that have been used in his
family already. Even when the naming situation grew more desperate.

By the time we were at the hospital, holding our sweet new baby,
all that our list included was Imri, Levi, Evan and Graham. I liked Imri and I
felt that Levi, Evan and Graham were okay, safe names. Evan being more
romantic; Levi and Graham being more interesting. But, I wasn't attached to
them. You would think this would land me on Imri, but I couldn't pull
the trigger without a test run.

We went home from the hospital unsure. We thought we would resolve it
that week at home, but we had company and a new baby to take care of.
We didn't figure it out, so we had to file his name as Unnamed.

This gave us several more months to figure things out, months we
never wanted to take, but we took nonetheless. Most people don't know
this, but you have quite a long time to officially pronounce a name. We
began calling our baby Graham, Evan and Imri interchangeably in order to
resolve our feelings, sure we would keep Imri Joseph as the middle name
if we didn't use Imri as the first name. Graham made it's way off the
list pretty soon, once I started hearing "Grumbly" when I would say
"Graham Bailey." I know. That was silly. I was tired.

The names Evan and Imri stuck around. We called him both. If a
stranger asked his name, we would say that it's Evan—in order to avoid
the explanation. If we had more time for a conversation, we would test
out Imri. We never felt sure what to do. We gradually became comfortable
with the idea of giving him both names and letting it work itself out
over time. His name would be Evan Imri Joseph Bailey.
If we ended up calling him Evan, then he would have two middle names
just like my other children. And if we only ever called him Imri, then
he could choose to either keep Evan for sport or we'd take him down to
the court and let him remove it officially.

This is where we landed. When we introduced the baby to his
babysitter, Marilyn, we told her she could call him either name. She
chose to call him Evan. He was on the verge of walking at the time and
this was a big event at Marilyn's. Marilyn would stand the baby at the
center of the room and the children would form a circle around him, clap
and chant, "Evan! Evan! Evan!" trying to get him to walk.

When Marilyn told us this story, we tried it at home that night with
our older kids. And when we chanted his name, "Evan! Evan! Evan!" he lit
up like a light bulb. He not only was the center of our enthusiastic
attention, but we were calling his name! The name he was hearing at
Marilyn's all day. That twinkle in his eyes brought me some peace. He
could be Evan and that was okay. It isn't a name I would have ever
predicted my using. I would have thought we would arrive at something
more unique. But it is lovely to say and he is a lovely boy.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

And he is still Imri too. And if he ever decides that Imri is the
name he wants to go by, then I'm cool with that. For now, Imri serves as
a nickname. (Apple is his other, self-elected nickname—from
his first attempts to say Evan. He called himself Apple for months.) We
call him Evan for the most part. I have never had clarity about it, but
I'm moving on. I have never had an easy time naming my children. It's an
honor I don't feel equal to. I always wish that I could consult them on
it and give them the name they want, let them be who they will be.

The Punchline

The short version is that we really weren't sure what to name him so
we
had to test a few names out. And when it came to choosing from the final
two names, we had disected our options to the bone and I just wasn't
sure I liked either name any more. Our baby went around with two
different names for a year. I didn't announce this because I didn't want
to hear more opinions. I just kept hoping I would feel inspired about
it. Clear inspiration never came. In the end, we gave him both names and
figured it would sort itself out over time. Our baby's official name is Evan Imri Joseph Bailey.
Evan, simply because it stayed on the list and Imri Joseph after my
grandfather. He goes by Evan. Though I still call him Imri at times.

My new "Evan" charm from The Vintage Pearl
arrived this week and my mama necklace is now finally complete. I
thought about ordering a silver charm with Evan on one side and Imri on
the other, but I resisted. I'm going to wear just one name around for a
while, one name officially stamped in silver.

Comment to enter today's contest. Be sure to include your email address
so we can contact you if you win.It took me a while to get this story all written out!Therefore, today's giveaway will extend into tomorrow and end at noon PST on Friday 8/9/13. Watch for the winner to be announced within a day or
two at the bottom
of the post. Follow The Vintage Pearl on their blog and on Facebook. For more info on my August giveaway madness, click here. Please
share the word. Check back every day.

It's great to be back home, but a bit of my heart and a large portion of my imagination
are lingering behind in Virginia. For the middle-part of our big summer
vacation, we drove south from D.C. to Colonial Williamsburg, with a stop
at Thomas Jefferson's Monticello on the way.

If I could live my dream life, I would garden and keep animals on a
lush green farm at the edge of a big city. I would spin yarn and churn
butter, cultivate the perfect cabbage, and make cheese. However, I would
also wear glamorous dresses to the theater, learn portraiture at an art
atelier in the city, take the light rail to business meetings, and type
away on my top-of-the-line computer. All with my kids in tow.

My life isn't too far off of this dream in spirit. I grow fruit trees
and make art. And my kids are here with me. But the lush trees and
rolling hills are missing.

This is where Virginia comes in. My. Freakin'. Word. Pardon the language. Virginia is gorgeous.
I almost had to close my eyes on the way to Monticello in order to
survive the view: white fences, electric green grass, trees as big as
buildings.

Perhaps Providence will plop the perfect excuse in my lap to move somewhere lush and lovely and near a fun city. How about a Kickstarter
campaign to build a blogger's getaway paradise with fully-teched-out
guest cabins. Or a reality tv show about trying to make such a
disjointed reality work. Have it all. Be it all.

But I need a town to pin this fantasy to. What are the best little
beautiful places to raise children, with great schools, strong, moral
families and exciting things an arm's length away. And don't forget the
large plots of land, big trees and cute houses. Give my dream new
breath.

If you relate, then you'd love Colonial Williamsburg.
They run the town like it never left the 1700s, wigmakers, shoemakers,
blacksmiths, cabinet-makers and all. I can't say enough about the place.
There's' nothing like it out west, that's for sure.

The gardens are immaculate and the buildings are charming—and I'm all
about the workshops. I don't blog about them much, but I have a
spinning wheel and a jeweler's bench of my own. I've built shoes,
churned butter, made yogurt, turned pottery, made lampwork glass beads,
and worked on a horse ranch. My inner pilgrim.

I feel so disloyal to Arizona right now. Sorry, Arizona. I still love
you—and your sun-bleached cow skulls and scorpions—but where are your
towering trees and brick buildings? Where are your moss-covered walls
and magnolias? Tell me it was a hallucination. Virginia is not real.

We did it. We really did it. We took a much needed break and had two
wonderful weeks touring Washington D.C., Williamsburg, and New York City with the
kids and visiting east-coast family—Isaac's sisters, Evie and Laura
both live near D.C. with their families and his brother Ross lives near
N.Y.C. It was a trip like none other we've had to date. I came home
home this week refreshed and inspired.

This collage shows some highlights from the DC portion of our trip. My iPhone
alone has 1000+ photos from the trip, so choosing was tough. Some of you have asked for our itinerary to help plan
future vacations to the area. I'll type that up and post it for you this week.

Can I just say that D.C. was so much more magnificent and visually
powerful than I expected. I was proud to see such beautiful architecture
and art on display. I was especially taken by The Library of Congress and The National Portrait Gallery. I wasn't so sure about the massiveness of some of the government institutions. That was shocking. But, all in all, wow.

It's
Quilt Market season at the studio. We're in a bi-annual bustle to prep
for the show. Today, I met with another local stitcher who will be
helping out with samples. I'm skirting around that misleading 'sewer'
word. I think we just need to come up with a new spelling. Same word,
new spelling: sewwer, sewur, sew-er, sew-erer, sewurr, seweur
(french-ish)...

What a fun afternoon. Fun I have no business having. Fun I have no business without.

I was up with the baby till 4am last night, nursing him through a
105º fever. I finally climbed into the tub and poured water over his
back while he slept against my shoulder. It was so sweet. But, man am I
tired!

It's 7pm now on Friday night and it feels like my day is just getting
going. I don't think date night is gonna happen unless Isaac wants to
help refine pattern covers, book flights, schedule meetings, or sew.

As we wished—yay!—Wendy is game to offer two tickets to her show in New York City next week at The Metropolitan Room, featuring songs by composers as diverse as Cole Porter, Joni Mitchell, and Wendy’s collaborator, Michele Brourman. This exciting event celebrates Wendy’s debut album, Breathing, and is tied together with entertaining vignettes from Wendy’s colorful family—a fun and personal show.

Wendy is my fiercely-fabulous sister-in-law. She is both a talented singer and a charming storyteller. She’s hilarious, in fact.

...And it’s killing me that we missed her opening night last week in Los Angeles! Anyone want to go to the New York show in my stead? I’ll sit on your lap in spirit.

Wendy performs on Thursday, the 21st and on Friday, the 22nd at 7pm.I
have TWO tickets to give away—and a C.D. Comment to enter. Please
indicate in your comment if you want to be entered into the TICKETS
drawing; otherwise, I'll assume you're in it for the C.D.
If you're in the greater New York area and you don’t win the tickets
giveaway, head to The Metropolitan Room for a exceptional show
nevertheless! You’re sure to have a great night. And the cover charge is
only $20.

One more time, that’s The Metropolitan Room at 34 West 22nd Street
(between 5th and 6th Avenues) in New York City. Reservations can be
called in at (212) 206-0440 or made online at metropolitanroom.com.

We just returned from a week in Los Angeles. My super-talented sister-in-law, Wendy Lane Bailey, had flown out to L.A. to perform at the Gardenia.
We were supposed to arrive in time to watch her sing, but our van's new
transmission had a different plan. Even though the transmission was
only a couple of months old, it gave out on our way out of town—big time. Needless to say, we started out on a different adventure than we had planned.

I'll just say that we got to know the truck stop really well. And
after a few hours we made our way to a pizza place near the mechanic’s,
camping there for most of the evening until we had secured a rental van
to pile into. Nine hours and $700 later, we were back on the road to
L.A.

Unfortunately, we missed Wendy’s performance. A serious bummer.
But, we tried to make up for it once we arrived. We stayed in a
beautiful hotel in old-town Pasadena, one of my favorite areas.

Our first stop was to visit old haunts in the Fashion District with
the kids. When we lived in Hollywood, Elijah was about the same age as
our little one is now. It was bizarre—and pretty cool—to see him, at
6-foot-3, push our youngest around in a stroller just like I used to
push Elijah around the Fashion District in a stroller, years back. What a
serious time warp.

We ate at Pink’s hot dogs for old-time’s-sake, spent a day at The Getty Museum, shopped at the Rose Bowl Flea Market (my favorite!), toured our old neighborhood—which has changed quite a bit, yet is so much the same—had cocoa at The Grove, and received a driving tour of historic Venice, CA from Wendy’s friend, Jessie, who has lived in Venice for the last 40 years.

I’ve been to Venice many times, but I had no idea that a large part of the city was originally built along canals. Instead of driving to a neighbor’s house, they would canoe. I love it.

As for The Getty, I adore it.

If you can believe this, I never did visit The Getty when we lived
close-by. We even had a friend who was a curator there at the time, yet I
still didn't make it. Back then, Isaac once went on a private tour of
the museum before it opened. Where was I at the time!? Seriously.

It was fantastic. I am awed and inspired. And ready to find a
portrait-painting class to take. Know of a good one? We’re back home
now, but part of me wants to turn around and head right back to The
Getty. If you are ever in Southern California, get yourself there. Don’t
miss it.

The
mechanic repaired the transmission without charge. However, I’m still
sad that the fiasco cost us our chance to see Wendy’s show. She has two more shows
coming up in New York City next week. Perhaps I can round up a couple
of free tickets to give away and send one of you in my stead.

All photos are from my Instagram feed—hallelujah for functioning phone cameras! We forgot to pack the big camera on this trip—ack.

While crawling into bed last night, I found this note tucked
carefully under my blanket. Don't tell Charlotte, but my first reaction
was a big smile. Charm and cuteness go a long way toward absolution. In
this case, I consider the necklace somewhat improved by the note it is
taped to.

I may not be teaching Charlotte to keep her hands off my jewelry, but
she is learning some honesty to go with her mischievous fiddling.
That's something, at least.

We
did it! The Baileys took a vacation. I'd call it our first 'official'
vacation ever—that wasn't a family wedding, funeral, or campout.
Considering that Elijah is nearly 16, it was about time.

This could become a habit.

We spent a couple of days in Florida, followed by a tour of the
Bahamas via cruise ship. Before leaving town, I mailed off a new fabric
collection—so I could truly relax. Of course, travelling with a baby
isn't always relaxing. His needs accounted for half of our luggage.
There was the crib, the stroller, the diapers, the swim diapers, the
wipes, the formula, the juice boxes, the baby food for excursions (Conch
Salad on shore wasn't going to cut it), the multiple changes of
clothes, the quilt, the diaper bag. It was a workout.

My siblings came along with their kids, so Charlotte and Elijah had a
flock of cousins to hang out with. My mom was there too. We were a big,
noisy group.

Ten stand-out memories:

•
Elijah's glee at the sheer quantity of food he could order at will:
steak, then salmon, then steak, then dessert, and dessert again, then
pizza, and so forth. Teenage-Boy Heaven.
• A run on the beach with my sister at high tide in the dark. The worst/best workout ever.• Touring the Flagler Museum in Palm Beach—Whoa! I will post more about this one.
Think mini Versailles.• Siamese cousins at the airport (below).•
Charlotte teasing the magician during his evening performance. With
hundreds in the audience, he called out in reference to her loud giggles
and taunting, "Now there's the reason some species eat their young."
• Spicy Ginger Beer and Goombay Punch in Lucaya.
• Jogging around the ship's deck during departure.
• The butterflies on the hill below Fort Charlotte in Nassau.
• Not having to miss the U.S. Presidential Debate while onboard.
• Cramming 15 of us into one van, with all of our luggage, for a ride back to the airport.
• Not one of my kids got sunburned—yes!

Have you seen the documentary, Being Elmo? It's fantastic. Very inspirational. If you have a Netflix account, go watch it right now.

In fact, it is so inspiring that....

While I was cooking dinner tonight, Isaac began to enumerate the many reasons why he would have made a great puppeteer. When I insisted it was not too late to become a puppeteer yet, he said, "Okay!" and headed into the other room.

After five busy minutes, he came back to the kitchen with a new friend—meet Guidolfo.

One tricky thing about having a teenage cook in the house is keeping track of your pans.

I pinned this note on Elijah tonight before he headed out to a swim party with his friends. The note didn't make it out of the door, let alone out of the kitchen. Though I got a good laugh out of him, he had it unpinned in 5 seconds flat.

It worked though. Elijah didn't forget. My springform pan is now safely tucked away in its cupboard, ready for Elijah's next fat-bomb concoction.

There is a housing community nearby that is centered around a working farm, with a restaurant and a coffee shop on the premises as well. It's rather cool. Well, super cool. Even the people who work there are cool. If you ever visit the restaurant, Joe's Farm Grill, make sure to visit the restroom. I can't bring myself to dispel its mysteries, but I'll just say it is the coolest restroom I've ever seen. And bizarre. Think 60s saturday-morning space-adventure.

The community was built on the family farm of a local restaurant developer—the Joe of Joe's Farm Grill. When this Joe sent word out on twitter last Saturday that they were opening their groves for u-pick apples, Charlotte and I concocted an apple-centric plan for Father's Day breakfast.

I clearly had apple-picking good times on my mind when I got dressed. Charlotte intuited my intentions and picked out clothes to match. When Isaac woke up and staggered into the room to find us in technicolor peasant clothes, he teased, "What's up with you and the russian doll clothing? The two of you look like rainbow refugees."

I said, "Hey now. We're going apple picking. What better to wear?"

He must have agreed because no sooner had I finished tying my scarf than Isaac trotted out of the closet in a floral shirt, a fedora, and aviator glasses, all fancied up and ready to join us.

Here's the best part. When we pulled up to the grove, the man working the scales wore an outfit identitcal to Isaac's: folky shirt, fedora, and aviator glasses to boot. He was entirely too cool to be working a farm. Isaac and I could barely keep a straight face as we greeted him and got directions. I meant to sneak a picture of the two of them, but our camera only had a dribble of juice left in it. It died too soon.

Charlotte and I hadn't planned to take pictures of our excursion—that was a bonus that came along with Isaac.

It was bright out. And hot. But with the farm being only a mile from our home and apple-picking consuming only a few minutes of our day, I'm sure we'll be doing this more often. They grow everything from peaches, citrus, grapes and apricots to squash, carrots, tomatoes and cucumbers.

One day I'm going to track that Joe down and shake his hand. It's inspiring to have such a visionary neighbor, bringing style and humor together with panache. If you ever visit Gilbert, AZ, stop by Joe's Farm Grill or one of his other restaurants, Liberty Market or Joe's Real BBQ. They are hands-down the coolest places in town.

If you're interested in coffee, stop by Joe's Roaster Project blog. It looks like he's developing a new commercial machine for coffee roasting. Restaurants, inventions, a community farm. His ideas are big—and all over the place.

Last year we harvested one, singular apple from our tiny new twig of an apple tree. We sliced the tiny Anna apple into four pieces and passed it out to the children. It was a precious preview of what was to come; sometimes it's years before you know if you picked a good fruit tree or not. The group consensus was, "Hooray, these little apples are tasty!"

This year, both tiny apple trees are covered with fruit. I feel equal pride and pity for their load. They are bent over and moaning. A beautiful ordeal—like an achy pregnant woman approaching her due date.

*The Horticultural Scoop: One tree is a green Anna Apple, the other is a Dorsett Golden. Not all trees will cross-pollinate, but these will, allowing us to have two varieties come harvest time. Soon, soon.

As it turns out, yardwork can still progress without risking scuffed baby knees and a stomach full of gravel chunks. All it takes is a scrap of smooth plywood, a bounce-a-licious bouncy chair...

...and one cute baby...

...who is tickled pink to watch his dad and teenage brother paint the new sideyard fence.

Now Bobbin and Pixel can explore new roaming grounds under the lime tree, with their pet door, food, and water moved to the laundry room, far from the baby's reach. With good cause...

Little Bub started crawling last Sunday. The following day, he began pulling himself to standing and cruising slowly along furniture. Three days later, he climbed up a flight of stairs and halfway back down again. Whoa, Nelly—zero to sixty in no seconds flat.

I blame the bouncer. Our little cherub has some serious baby muscles now.

It's been a long time since we've attempted a 12-hour road trip with an infant. It all comes back to me so clearly now.

We just returned from a week in Utah where we celebrated our niece, Ellie's, marriage to Mr. Jon Cox. Isaac urged me to fly up separately with the baby, then meet up with him and the older kids once there. But I insisted we go The Togetherness Route and all take the car.

Little bub did rather well. Of course, this is because we drove all night for each leg of the trip. Now it's time for a vacation from our vacation. Isaac and I need sleep.

Isaac comes from a giant, collected family which claims 10 kids. Those 10 kids have kids of their own, ranging from 2-months-old to 30-something. It's entirely too rare that we get to visit with a large sampling of this boisterous group. This is a family which will actually DANCE at a wedding. Dance-dance, not sway.

Ellie was radiant in a 60's-inspired silvered dress which made a gentle bell, just skirting the floor. (Such a neat girl—I really need to tell you more about her and the charity work she is doing!) As Ellie is Charlotte's true doppleganger in the family, my own life fast-forwarded for a few minutes here and there as I caught glimpses of Charlotte as a woman on her own wedding day.

Charlotte looked like sunshine and ice cream, wearing her new Easter dress to the wedding; Ellie paid her a mighty compliment, saying, "Charlotte is so adorable; she's my top competition today."

The reception was held at the Salt Lake Hardware Building—crazy cool place. I didn't have the camera out much, as my arms were full of baby. At nearly 9-months old, holding him is like wrestling a thorny bludger. His will is developing more quickly than his motor skills. Scratchy nails are his best negotiating tool. I haven't processed the photos yet, but if there are any of note, I'll post them.

At the reception, Elijah learned DJ skills from his cousin Izzy's husband, Johnny. Elijah has since been reading up on sound boards and other equipment in the B&H Photo catalog. (Izzy is one of Ellie's two vibrant younger sisters—the one whose wedding we attended two Christmasses back.) Izzy has a blog now at A Dose of Lovely—that's another post to add to the queue.

From these photos, you can see that I never got around to posting about Granny's Easter dresses. I pulled up the photos—in a timely manner, I add—but every image was so breathtakingly delicious that I couldn't decide which ones to use.

So I postponed.

Here at last are Charlotte, Haley, and Chloe, my mom's three granddaughters, enjoying the Arizona sunshine outside my sister's home on Easter Day. Granny coordinated these three in my Hello Roses fabric, accenting each dress with a unique twist of lemon. These dresses—and the little girls wearing them—make my heart pit-a-pat.

It was a truly wonderful trip. As I wrapped up a new fabric collection the day before we left, the timing was perfect to enjoy a brief escape with my kiddos before immersing myself in the next big project.

The Baileys had a day in the sun—much needed. We dawdled around the Renaissance Festival for a few hours with my sister Julia and her family. Hermione guided us from place to place while Isaac and I juggled the baby between us. Elijah was in a separate world eating frozen cheesecake, making candle keepsakes, practicing alien languages—with a girl. Yep, Elijah brought a girl. I have been repeating this to myself ever since, Elijah brought a girl.

I will adjust.

I'm always amazed by the variety of folks that carve a life out for themselves from this spectacle: broom-makers, puppet-makers, leather-mask-makers; there is room for all sorts. (Not much room for their bosoms in those corsets though.)

Charlotte wants one of everything. In the past, we've picked up bat wings and bendy-dragons for her to play with. This year, we couldn't extract Charlotte from the mega-overpriced, shoulder-sitting-dragon-pets booth to find a reasonable keepsake for her. Good memories will have to suffice this year.

For $1.00, make a child's day with a box of colorful chalk. Leave the box on her bed with a love note. And that child's charming artwork will bring you far more than $1.00 of happiness. Take photos and your returns will double in the years to come when you both reflect on those sunny days of childhood.

We haven't been able to fit in a family portait in years. At this point, I'm counting on Charlotte's artwork to catalog our family make-up. In fact, I dream of assembling a coffee table book of her artwork to help me endure an empty nest. I thought of naming the book 'I Love You, Mama' as this is the tag line on most of her drawings. My latest thought, however, is to name the book 'A Spoonful of Charlotte' as this mighty book is bound to help the medicine go down—the fleeting of time, a deterioration in health, vision issues—whatever is in store for me should I be fortunate enough to make it to a beautiful old age.

I'm planning out my happiness.

In fact, I've been giving a lot of thought to mindful happiness the last few years. I've been assembling my children's traditional keepsakes (artwork, report cards, photos, etc.) into files for their easy retrieval as adults. When I started, it struck me to include more meaningful things as well—bits of wisdom when they come to me, a love note for my far-off descendants—and my take on happiness and how to foster it. The more I move on it, the more convinced I am that everyone should leave such a guidebook for their kiddos. What to do, what NOT to do. I mean, isn't happiness the thing?

So far, I have a handful of essays. Gosh, 'essays' sounds so—so what? Collegy? So far, I have a handful of studies. What's the word here? Though some stories are typed up, not everything is written out yet. I scribble down notes and test out my theories regularly. Some experiments are spiritual, some are physical, some are silly. Really, these are all excuses to be mindful about happiness because I believe mindfulness can make for powerful results.

Code name: Hello Happiness.

I made a list the other night of some of my sillier experiments with happiness and I realized that I should be including you guys in this. For instance, why have I not posted about my Cleaning Crown? Or video-taped a Family Dance-Break for you to laugh at? Though I did post about taking a Clogging Class with my friend, Sarah, and learning to Make Yogurt, I did not revealed my intent nor my impressions.

The colored chalk was a simple plan to make the lessons I teach at my church a smidgeon more fun for the ladies. I wish I had thought to get an extra $1.00 box for Charlotte and leave it on her bed with a love note. That idea didn't crystallize till after we divied up my teaching supply and enjoyed a few minutes of scribbling on the driveway together.

I'll have to surprise Charlotte with a new box of chalk in a couple of weeks when these others are worn to nubs.

Thank you to those of you who have written to see if I was okay. The truth is, I have been overwhelmed the last while and I decided to cut myself some slack. I’m sorry I haven’t chimed in with an update. There have certainly been blog-worthy things going on.

The baby has tripled in size and he is guzzling down food like it’s in short supply. Charlotte is dancing a whirlwind through the house and filling my walls and my heart with “I love you, mama” artwork. Elijah is stretching toward the moon and getting closer every day. He is a giant at over 6’1” and growing. Right now, he’s enjoying a break from marching band—we all are—and getting charged up to go at it again in a few months.

I could just proceed from here with new news, but there have been some wonderful things that warrant indexing, and some tough things too: naming the baby and why I haven’t announced his moniker, getting by with no assistant (it’s just a stinky time to train someone fresh when you have a new baby at home), teaching myself to run (go me!), creating a custom dance costume for Charlotte for Christmas, drawing and painting like mad in order to catch up from a brain-fuzzing pregnancy. The list goes on.

Some of this stuff I imagine could be published in a tell-all book one day. There are always bits you don’t want everyone to know, but you so DO want everyone to know; you know? Life is a roller coaster. I try to sing the pretty songs in my blog, but throwing in a croaker now and then should keep it real. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m anxious to get back to this and be in touch. Thanks for hanging in there for me.

About a year ago, I overheard Charlotte and her cousin, Jared, both 5, playing 'Harry Potter' around Charlotte's dollhouse. Their figurines were casting spells at each other through the living room window. Expelliarmus was the spell of choice, however their mistaken version was an enthusiastic — Ex-smelly-armpits! Back and forth, they cursed each other for a good half an hour. It was all I could do to keep from giggling and ruining their play with newfound self-consciousness.

Come to think of it, smelly armpits can be magical, can't they? As a shield charm. Or for some, as an untraceable weapon.

Around here, Halloween has transformed from one magical night of dress-up and free candy to a series of events. Is this the case where you live? I'm still trying to decide if this trend is wonderful or worrysome. (Last year's series of four parties resulted in too much candy and too much fatigue to shuffle into one school week.) This year, we narrowed down our festivities to just two events — Halloween itself — and the best block party ever.

Costume-wise, I was magically off the hook this year. Charlotte discovered the Harry Potter robe I made for Elijah years back and opted to be Hermione Granger for Halloween. My workload? I ordered an improved patch for the cloak and a new tie, then hunted down a hair crimper to frizz out her glossy locks — far from my standard Halloween effort (as evidenced here, here, here & here). To top things off, our neighbor turned Charlotte a custom wand on his wood lathe.

Perhaps I could have addressed the shoe situation better. When it came time to head out, Charlotte had to pick from pink ballet flats, white church shoes or a wide selection of summer flip flops. I didn't realize she was down to so few shoes. Fortunately, it's still rather warm in Arizona. At least the flip flops weren't lavendar and glittery — though that would have made for a good laugh.

Onto the best block party ever...

This year we met up with my sister, Julia, and her two red ninjas, Adam and John, for a trek through her neighborhood party. Straight out of the movies, this party had pony rides, a merry-go-round of swings, train rides, a rock-climbing wall, a mechanical bull, and at least three or four other simliar attractions. Elijah spent a good part of the night in a tug of war game against a mob of small children.

Not only was the entertainment off the charts, but this soiree offered the speediest trick-or-treating I have ever seen. Folding chairs were arranged, shoulder-to-shoulder around the block. When trick-or-treat time came around, the chairs filled with generous witches, zombies, werewolves, and rag dolls. The kids lined up to make their laps for candy — so incredibly efficient and plentiful. No running from house to house, no wasted time waiting at the doorsteps of empty homes. I was mesmerized. So were the children, I’m sure.

I'm still sorting out how I feel about the lack of effort involved. Shouldn't the ratio of effort to candy be higher?

Charlotte's not too troubled over it, whatever my conclusion may be. She can always cast a spell on me for compliance. "You will let me eat all the candy I want, whenever I want to."

Truth is, that little girl cast a spell on me long before she received a wand to whip around.

I'm back from 'maternity leave.' I didn't intend to be away for a couple of weeks, but with family in town, my assistant moving into a new job, some replaced stitches, and the usual ruckus that accompanies a third baby, I needed the break. I'm a little behind on big announcements, so watch for new fabric, new patterns, and more.

I might need an iPad so I can blog with one hand while I feed the baby. He's a full-time job by himself these days. Of course, I take smooching his feathery head and peachy cheeks rather seriously. Has anyone tried an iPad for typing up posts? I'm excited to get back to it.

When the hospital called on August 17th to schedule a C-section for September 3rd, I got off my computer, and walked and walked and walked. Every day, for days. My best shot at avoiding surgery was to go into labor naturally. (My oldest was born by C-section, so the doctor didn’t want me to go full-term at the risk of uterine rupture.) It was over 110º each of those days, so I would head out at 8pm after the sun went down and make laps around the neighborhood in my fluorescent-orange shirt -- the Great Pumpkin.

I did it! With four blisters on my left foot and three on my right, our new little bub was born at 1:59pm on Thursday, August 25th. No C-section required -- phew. My feet only stopped aching this week.

I had never gone into labor before on my own, so I stayed in bed that morning longer than some might have, timing my contractions on my iPhone (standard clock app, lap function – awesome). Once I could no longer sleep, I started posting my progress on Twitter; it was a fantastic distraction. We got the kids ready for school and called in my mom to make the rounds, then headed out to the hospital. Of course, we had to make a stop at the store for an SD card for our camera. (I wanted photos!) At that point, my contractions were a minute long and three minutes apart, from start to start.

At the hospital, when I walked from triage to the delivery room, my doctor announced that I was at a 7 or 8 and everyone at the nursing station stood and clapped, saying “Wow, you’re still walking!?” I wonder if that’s such a big deal or if they stand and clap for everyone. “You’re dilated to a 1? And you’re still walking!?” “You’re dilated to a 3? And you’re still walking!?” Might be a good protocol.

I had a big, goofy smile on my face -- between contractions. The staff was baffled by me. Sure, it hurt. Of course! I was just ecstatic that I beat the scheduled surgery and that I’d get to meet my new kiddo. Good thing I was in an excited stupor too, because my doctor had to attend to three emergency situations in the course of my labor. She held off on me a little bit so she could help the other mothers get through their ordeals. After she broke my water, everything went very quickly and the baby was born within the hour.

And here he is! The inventory is complete. He’s all here, with all his teensy parts. And everything appears to work as it should: cooing, gooing, squeaking, squawking, spitting, squirting, grinning, grunting. He’s so new and tiny that all of these functions still have us mesmerized.

I'm saving his name for another post -- as that's it's own story. When it comes to names, I'm a waffler. Why can't we all go by three for four different names -- that would be so much easier! (Well, maybe not.)

Two days after the baby was born, Isaac and our talented friend, Jared Platt, met up to take pictures. These lovely shots were snapped by Jared. Jared is a professional photographer who travels the U.S. teaching photography workflow and file management to other professionals.

Isaac has typed up his thoughts on little bub's birthday as well -- more revealing perhaps than my polite assessment. Here's his take...

Charlotte started 1st grade today. Elijah starts high school on Wednesday. With their schedules & activities, my own work obligations, and a newborn to juggle, we will be ping-ponging all over town this year. I'm counting on the crock pot for help. And I'll be baking grab-n-go goodies on the weekends. Yesterday, I made Sour Cherry Muffins. I thought 2 dozen would get us somewhere -- but they are no more -- devoured in a day.

That's a teenage boy.

... and a pregnant woman.

... and a sugar-obsessed child.

... and a man.

--- and two dogs sweeping up crumbs.

I was planning to snap a photo & post my recipe, but it looks like I'll have to bake 4 dozen in order to pull that off. Maybe next week.

Everything is "maybe" right now. "Maybe I'll be there." "Maybe I can do that for you." "Maybe I'll make muffins this Sunday." I sound so wishy-washy. The fact is, I'm 36 weeks pregnant tomorrow. Elijah was born at 36 weeks on the nose and Charlotte was born at 37.5 weeks. I can't commit to anything much for a while.

Any day now! Or, then again, maybe in a few weeks.

All of my cuteness efforts are going into accessories at this point. Flashy, distracting bags & purses. Headbands, earrings, necklaces -- all at the same time. Colorful shoes. (Ignore the billowing pudge of my swollen left foot escaping the confines of my unsensible shoe. Strangely, it's just my left leg that swells.)

My belly precedes me. Not only does my colorful new thermos make me feel better about the gallons of water I have to drink in order to keep up with this baby AND the 113-degree weather -- it is yet another loud-and-lovely accessory to wave in front of my stomach when I'm out and about -- a colorful diversion for the well-intending stares that follow a pregnant woman everywhere.

So that's the pregnancy update -- and the business news -- all mushed together. Check out my new travel mugs! Just in from my licensing partner, Inviting Company. Five designs. Stainless steel. Awesome.

I love me a holiday. I don't always take the day off, but knowing that I could is a relief on its own.

Today, my day is a mix. So far, I've flitted between shopping with Charlotte for sillybands, managing a play date with cousins, washing the laundry, photographing a pattern cover, sketching aprons and prepping to-do lists for the week. In another hour we head to Granny's house for a swim party and food, then out for fireworks.

A simple celebration works for me -- especially in this heat, with this belly. These days I get winded just walking up the stairs. I tell myself it's a heat/pregnancy/blood-volume thing. It couldn't possibly be my fitness level. I plan to sit. And sip. And sit. It is HOT out there.

HELLOmynameisHeather.com

Hi! I'm Heather Bailey, a fabric & lifestyle designer, an inventor, and a mother to three amazing kids. I love to create. Need to create. And I'm spreading the word on how fulfilling and necessary creativity is to the human soul. Love & nurture your family, be true & honest with your friends and make good stuff—three necessary ingredients for a happy & beautiful life.
This, here, is my personal blog.